Part 14 (1/2)
Once the swelling left my arm the torn place healed rapidly. So that by the end of a week I felt no inconvenience, and it was beyond need of any treatment save a simple bandage to protect it from the rubbing of my sleeve. Then I bethought me of my neglected snowshoeing, and sallied forth on the track of that free, effortless stride which had so far eluded me. At the gate of the stockade I turned back, on the impulse of the moment, and went to the Montell cabin to ask Jessie if she were a snowshoe expert or wished to become one.
”Thank Heaven for a chance to see the outside of this stockade wall once more,” she cried, in mock fervor. ”Will I go snowshoeing? Yea, and verily. I detest being mewed up, and I don't like to wander off alone.
This big desolate country is so forbidding. Yes, I've snowshoed a little-one winter in the Wisconsin woods.”
She had more of a mastery over the webbed boots of the North than I, it shortly transpired. We went up the river a mile or two, crossed it, and climbed to the top of a bald point that immediately appealed to us as an ideal coasting-place. We were in something of a light-hearted mood, anyway, and like a pair of children on a holiday amused ourselves by sliding down and climbing back to slide down again. Thus we pa.s.sed two or three hours, at imminent risk of frozen cheeks and noses, for it was bitterly cold, so cold that the snow crunched beneath our feet like powdered rosin. And when we wearied of that we went trailing home over glistening flats that lay between us and the post. Down on the bare bottomlands of the Sicannie a tenuous frost-haze hung in the air. Back from the valley edges the great woods stood in frozen ranks, branches heavy-freighted with the latest fall of snow. To the west towered the mountain range, robed in ermine now instead of summer purple; huge, ragged crests, flas.h.i.+ng in the heatless sun.
”What insignificant creatures we are, after all,” the girl stopped suddenly and looked back at the white peaks, and to the north and south where the somber woodland stood like twin walls. ”For a true sense of his own importance in the universe one has only to face-this.” She nodded toward the surrounding forest, and the Rockies crouching against the far skyline. ”It is so big-and so silent. It gives me a feeling of being pitted against a gigantic, remorseless power-a something indefinable, and yet terrible in its strength. Power-when I can understand it-fascinates me. But this makes me shrink. Sometimes I actually feel afraid. They say that men compelled to stay up here alone often go mad. I hardly wonder. I don't think I like the North.”
”So you feel that way,” I rejoined. ”So do I, at times.”
She a.s.sented soberly.
”Perhaps we are blessed or cursed, whichever it may be, with too much imagination; and give it overfree rein.”
”No,” I returned, blundering on in an attempt to voice that which I had often felt, but could never express. ”There is an atmosphere, a something about these immense s.p.a.ces that sits hard on the nerves. We don't have to imagine these things; they're here. It seems to me that any wilderness untamed must have that same effect; it overawes one. And man hasn't tamed this yet. The North is master-and we feel it.”
We plodded a few yards farther.
”The North is master-and we feel it,” she repeated presently. ”I resent that. I shouldn't care,” she murmured thoughtfully, ”to be wholly at the mercy of the North. It reminds me of the sea, cold and gray and pitiless.” And she fell into a silent reflective mood as we trudged along to the post.
Just at the gate of the stockade we met two men-two tall men burdened with shoulder-packs. I knew the face of every man in the pay of Montell, but these were not of his following. Yet somewhere, sometime, I had seen them; my memory insisted upon this. But where or when, I could not instantly recall.
They pa.s.sed within a few feet of me, their _parka_ hoods drawn close about their cheeks. I had only their profiles to spur my recollection.
But that sufficed. I stood watching them bear away to the north, and as mechanically I shuffled the cards of memory a picture flashed out clear as the ace of spades in a diamond suit. The two men were those who had come to the camp of Three Wolves early in the fall, the same who had sat upon the log with Barreau that morning and made overtures for peaceful capitulation. Once I had placed them, my interest flagged. I turned and entered the stockade. Jessie had kept on to the store. Montell was standing on the stoop, as I reached the building, his hands thrust deep in the pockets of his fur coat. By the fixity of his gaze as I turned the corner I guessed that he was watching the two men. A backward glance showed them just vanis.h.i.+ng into the belt of spruce that ran to the brow of the hill.
”Well,” I greeted, ”you've had callers to break the monotony, I see.”
”That's what,” he replied. ”Queer fish, too. Wouldn't stay no time at all. Claimed to be free traders like ourselves, and wanted to know if we minded 'em tryin' to pick up a few pelts around here in the spring. Got a stock of goods, they said, somewhere between here and the Peace.”
I p.r.i.c.ked up my ears at that. Someone had fibbed properly. And when it was on the tip of my tongue to say that they were Hudson's Bay men, I refrained. That information would keep, I reflected. The more I thought of it the less I cared to make any a.s.sertions. The men had done no harm apparently. If they had lied to Montell he was probably shrewd enough to know why. If Montell were lying to me, he likely had good reasons. I dropped the matter forthwith. It was for Barreau to speculate upon, when he returned.
So I went into the store and warmed myself, and, after Jessie went home, spent the rest of the afternoon playing pinochle with Ben Wise. But the sight of those men in buckskin had jarred me out of the peaceful routine of thought that the quiet weeks had bred. I was once more brought up against the game of cross-purposes that Barreau and Montell were playing, and the Hudson's Bay Company again loomed as a factor. I wondered if anything had befallen Barreau. He had told me he would be back in four days-the time had doubled. Ben brought me up standing in the midst of these reflections. He threw down his cards in disgust.
”I quit yuh,” he growled. ”By gosh, I want to play cards when I play, an' do my dreamin' in bed.” So we put up the deck, and I went to my cabin and built a fire.
The cheery warmth of the cabin, after the exertion of snowshoeing, and sitting there in a state of mental pa.s.sivity, soon begot drowsiness. I piled wood on the fire, and stretched myself on the bunk. And the next minute, it seemed, I was being shaken out of my sleep-but I opened my eyes to candle light, and Barreau standing over me, smiling.
”Come out of the trance, old snoozer,” he laughed cheerfully. ”I've just got in. Suppose we go and eat before the cook shuts up shop.”
”Amen to that,” I replied.
I put fresh wood on the fire, which had sunk to a few dull embers, while Barreau busied himself with the wash-basin and comb. Stripped of the _parka_ that had cast confusing shadows on his features I saw that he had suffered attack from the frost. A patch of blackening skin stood over each cheek-bone.
”I see you got bitten, too,” I remarked-and went on to tell him of my clash with the huskies.
”I had worse than husky dogs to contend with,” he returned in a matter of fact way. ”Our two Frenchmen, the cabin and everything in it, has been spirited away. I went on a scouting trip, thinking I might get track of something. I've laid out every night since I left here. Hull fared even worse than I; he may lose some of his toes.”
”And you found--” I started to ask.
”Nothing,” he replied carelessly. ”I don't think the men came to any harm. But it's one more item on the debit side.”